Made known silently
by BlackEyedGirl
Summary: Uther dies in the middle of a damp summer, and Camelot is at war by the next winter. Merlin is by Arthur's side. Merlin/Arthur preslash


**Title:** Made known silently  
**Fandom:** Merlin  
**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur preslash, nods towards the canon het  
**Rating:** PG-13 for implications of violence  
**Length:** 1,600 words  
**Disclaimer:** All belongs to the BBC  
**Spoilers:** Futurefic, and definitely spoils to Excalibur.  
**Summary:** _Uther dies in the middle of a damp summer, and Camelot is at war by the next winter. Merlin is by Arthur's side_.

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_'No trumpets sound when the important decisions of our life are made. Destiny is made known silently.'  
**- **Agnes de Mille _

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Uther dies in the middle of a damp summer, and Camelot is at war by the next winter. Arthur is not content to compromise for the sake of his father's hard-won peace – there are battles to be fought, wrongs to right, and he is still a knight before a monarch.

Merlin is by his side. His hands are steeped in blood, finally having learnt the use of sword and shield, and what it takes to wield them. Arthur's safety is a powerful motivation.

Arthur still doesn't know. Merlin thinks about it every day, every hour. He is waiting for a sign – something to happen so profound that it will make Arthur understand. Some battle only a sorcerer can win. The Dragon says that such battles are coming, but they have not yet arrived. Arthur has assembled a cadre of brave knights, and he has all the protection he requires without Merlin's help.

He smiles, though, when Merlin stands beside him in the grass and wipes his blade of today's gore. "Merlin."

"Sire."

Arthur's forehead creases. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. Well, I mean, I'd be happier if we were on our way home, but-"

"They snatched villagers from our lands. This is important, Merlin."

"I know," he hastens to say, "I know, I do. I'm just- It would be nice, to return home soon."

"To Camelot?"

"Yes." Camelot has been home for long enough now that it has stopped being strange to dub it so. Merlin still misses, some days, the peace of a quiet village, but Camelot is the place he longs to return to. He has lived there now for five years, as the King's manservant for only four months. He had not been absent from the castle so long since he was a boy.

Merlin clarifies, "I miss the others. Gwen and Morgana. Gaius. Morgana told me last time that she wouldn't forgive us if we stayed away so long again."

"Morgana will have to learn that we have other concerns than keeping her company." Arthur sounds harsh, but Merlin has seen him pour over the long, angry letters she sends to him. He has seen the way Arthur agonises over his replies, and how eager he is for the messengers to return.

"She misses you."

"And I her, but we-"

"We have a mission."

Arthur nods, seemingly surprised at such quick agreement. "And anyway… there are plenty of good men at Camelot. She is better courted when I am not there to draw attention."

"Gwen mentioned. I think Morgana would rather your homecoming than the attentions of other noblemen."

Arthur only sighs. "Perhaps. Nevertheless, we have a job to do here."

"And you're all about duty." Merlin grins, but he means it. Arthur will be, already is, a good king. He's going to be better. Could be now, if Merlin could just- They could be on their way home now, if Merlin was able to use his gift. It's very frustrating. Merlin opens his mouth, but someone is coming running to pass a message to Arthur. Arthur watches him for a moment, in case he will speak, but then turns away to receive the other servant.

* * *

Merlin does not like sieges. The people inside the castle will be starving now, and all Merlin can think of is what this would be like in Camelot. The people in the lower city who would die before the nobles go hungry. Somewhere inside the castle, someone has built a funeral pyre. Merlin can smell the burning flesh.

Arthur pats his shoulder on the way past. Merlin catches his arm. "What can I do?"

"Sorry?"

"What could I do that would make this pass quicker? What could anyone do?"

"Short of convincing the idiot inside to surrender before _all_ his people die? Not a lot, Merlin. It's a siege, it ends when it ends."

"If we had- If we could get inside- I've heard tell of-"

"Merlin. No talk of sorcery today. That's a conversation for peacetime."

Merlin has to be careful. He has come so close to broaching the conversation so many times that Arthur can see it coming. He doesn't anger, but his face shutters up. Uther had raved, near the end, convinced his death was the work of magic. Convinced that it was retribution. Merlin had been in the room, just before he died, when Uther had grabbed Arthur's arm and hissed, "because I asked the witch for a son."

Arthur has been more closed-minded about magic since then, after all the efforts Merlin and Morgana had put into changing his mind. Merlin had been so convinced that things would be better when Arthur was king.

He shakes his head. They are. Many things are. They fight for those that aren't their own. They protect their own with all they have, no matter what their status. Arthur touches his arm and says, "Merlin. Do this for me," as though there is a choice in the matter.

"Of course, sire," Merlin answers, and puts the conversation aside once more.

* * *

They had not come prepared for a diplomatic mission. They need the older men of the court, who know the right words for treaties and land agreements. Arthur insults the yielding nobles, only partially intentionally, and they take it because he has the victory, after all. This is not how surrender negotiations are supposed to go.

Merlin frowns, and scries into bowls of water, looking for the Camelot records of such things. He stands at Arthur's shoulder and murmurs, "If you please, sire, if I might-"

He is still surprised when Arthur turns to listen to him, ignoring the curious stares of their defeated foes. Merlin slides him a scroll, liberated from this castle's records, of previous boundaries, and hunting agreements. The other copy is on Geoffrey's shelves, but Arthur doesn't have to know that.

"Thank you, Merlin," Arthur acknowledges, and proceeds to take the noblemen to task for lying to him.

Merlin sighs. This is going no faster than it was before.

He spends his evenings lying on the bedroll beside Arthur's, acting as chief counsel on what the new treaty should contain. There should be others more qualified, but Arthur keeps a young court, and a younger war council. Merlin dreams he flies on the Dragon's back over the battlefield, drawing the lines which say how the spoils are to be divided. The Dragon sounds like Arthur when it says, "Thank you, Merlin."

When Merlin wakes, Arthur is grinning. "Home," is all he has to say.

* * *

The woods around Camelot have grown thick and unruly since they have been away. Arthur, who spent his childhood hunting in these trees, loses his way. Merlin has never been able to navigate here, save when he was chasing Arthur down.

"Well," Arthur mutters, "this is a slight setback."

"How exactly did we manage to lose an entire army?"

"Well, I believe, and correct me if I'm wrong, it happened when you said, 'Sire, I'd really like to get home tonight'. Instead of staying in the village until light, with the rest of the army."

Arthur sounds frustrated, but as much with himself as Merlin. So Merlin feels safe to protest, "You agreed with me!"

"You-" Arthur's voice trips up, "you _looked_ at me."

"I did not!"

"You did. The way you always do." Arthur is sulking again. It's been a while since he pouted like that – it doesn't suit a king, but then they are all alone right now. They can pretend the years have not changed them.

Merlin smiles softly. "And what sort of a look is it, sire, so I know not to do it again?"

Arthur looks ahead of them, far into the distance, though it is too dark to see the missing path. "As though, perhaps, if I do this one thing for you, you might try calling me Arthur again."

Merlin stumbles, and Arthur catches him by the arm. They drop contact immediately, and Merlin rubs his shoulder, where Arthur pulled at it. "Arthur," Merlin says. "You're… I thought… You always growled at me when I called you Arthur in front of people!"

"In front of people, yes. When it's just us- Merlin, aside from Morgana, you have been my friend longer than anyone else. We've saved each other's lives too often to count. And you still- Ever since I was crowned. Would you rather be somewhere else? I know you miss Camelot when we go to battle."

Merlin pauses. "No. I want to be at your side."

"You don't like to fight. I have plenty of knights to ensure my safety."

"You do."

"And yet you still- You remain in my service, though our debts have long since cancelled each other out. If it's obligation-"

"It isn't," Merlin says, quietly, distractedly, thoughts shifting into place. "I want to be at your side. If we did this forever, I would stay. Arthur."

Arthur doesn't look at him, and even in the tiny light of their fading torch, Merlin can see the flush on his face. He smiles, though his mind is on other things. Not realisation, for that was reached long ago. This is simply the first time he noticed what he had decided months or years previously.

Merlin reaches out his hand, calling light into his palm. He walks a pace forward, waiting. Arthur steps beside him, his shoulder brushing Merlin's. Merlin says, "Come on then. I'll get us home."

"Merlin."

"Arthur."

Arthur reaches up with his gloved hand, brushing the edge of the light. Merlin laughs, and whispers it into new shapes: a dragon, a sword, a shield. Lastly, the castle, with two figures on the ramparts.

Arthur grips his shoulder, and points them onwards with his familiar impatient frown. He spares Merlin a smile, and a gentle push. Camelot awaits their return.

* * *

FIN


End file.
